Beyond Borders: Finding My Place in a Patchwork World
Where did I feel fitting in, you ask? Well, let me spill the beans – it wasn't exactly where I first saw the light of day. Nope, I wasn't all "German enough" from the get-go. My roots, my dad's Greek heritage, (by the way also not “Greek enough” because I was born in Germany) and a little DNA test adventure revealed that I'm a patchwork of cultures. Turns out, even my mom's roots have their own worldly tour. Thank you, DNA testing – you taught me a thing or two.
Our roots aren't just passports or fancy genes. Sure, they play a part, like supporting actors in our life's movie. Yet, the real stars of the show? The people we grow up with, the moves we make, and the crew we choose. It's like we're a mixtape of the five closest people we choose within each life chapter. Isn’t it? That’s what they say. That kinda makes more sense than official government documents in red, blue or green, doesn't it? But wait, there's more. I've got a hunch there's something bubbling inside us that shapes who we are.
Alright, let's rewind to that time of the night when my friend (yep, one of my fab five from that chapter of my life) dropped me a question: "Where did you feel most at fitting in?" I pondered, and out slipped "Egypt." But here's the truth – that wasn't exactly what I wanted to say. But excuse me it was late. And it isn't a geography thing either.. It was more like a surprise how much I was fitting into a place that was totally new to me. That’s what I wanted to say. But the hour was late and instead of a sentence just a word came out. The family of my partner, they made me feel like they were just waiting for me. And get this – I didn't even speak the local lingo (Arabic, you sly language). I mean, I tried, I really did. But learning Arabic was like an impossible quest to solve..
Here's the kicker – I didn't need a manual on their religion's stereotypes either. Yep, we're talking about that elephant in the room: Hijab, terrorism, and all-inclusive holidays by the Red Sea. But guess what? They welcomed me with open arms, sans rulebook. In fact, it felt like they flipped the script. And did I mention it was Ramadan? The time when they hit the pause button on munching and sipping? Yep, I dabbled in it too, not for religious reasons, but for the adventure. Let me tell you, it's a whole different ball game when you're in that kind of community.
I wasn't fasting like the rest, just for one day or two. But it didn't matter. They served me plates and cups brimming with goodness, even when the sun was out and you know what the secret ingredient was? My mere presence. Not my birth certificate, not my creed – just me being there. Oh, and my genetics played nice too. My Greek-infused skin gave me a pass to the fitting-in club. And it wasn't just in my head. When I braved the streets solo, a wise old lady stopped me for directions to a place I had never heard of. I do not even understand the words itself, just that she is searching for a place. Funny how even a simple conversation can tell you that you're part of something, a piece of a bigger puzzle.
And oh, let's talk about food, the universal language of "you're welcome here." They piled plates high, especially when breaking the fast, eager to surprise me with dishes I'd never tried before. And there I was, schooling them with my "It's called this or that in Greece." No awkwardness, just hearty laughter and a sprinkle of history in the mix. It's like our taste buds become this bridge across time, connecting us through our genes, our stories, and those five amigos who stand by us through thick and thin. Funny how life's recipe isn't just about the ingredients; it's about the love and connections that simmer and blend, creating a unique flavor all our own.